


Blue Moon

by Chicnstu



Category: Dan Howell - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 20:54:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8593327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicnstu/pseuds/Chicnstu
Summary: (Dan/OC) When Dan and Phil travel to meet Phil's cousin, Sam, he gets more than he bargains for. He meets Kaya, Sam's best friend, and he knows from the start that they're two peas in a pod. But they know Dan will have to go back home eventually. Will a long-distance relationship work out or will their relationship fall flat? (rated PG)





	

A/N: At the beginning of most chapters, I’ll have a little set up numbers. These are simply links to my polyvore, where I post the outfit for the chapter as well as a faceclaim. They’re not necessary to look at, but they’re fun. My polyvore profile is the same user name (chicnstu), so if you can’t copy and paste and want to see, go to my profile and there’s a link to the collection on my page. Thank you!  
polyvore.com/cgi/set?id=210971192  
As the car gently pulled to a stop in front of the stop sign our bodies swiftly jolted forward in unison. I explained to Sam a million times why this happens, yet she never fails to ask me each and every time. The light for radio was on, but the speaker produced barely any sound. The faint melodies of today’s most popular songs could be heard if we both held our breath as to be so silent we could hear a pin drop.  
She had told me that morning that she needed to talk to me. She said it was important, yet she wouldn't tell me why.  
I looked out the window at the streets of Vela Ensenada, California. I opened my mouth, blew condensation onto the window, and started to write my name. Sam quickly smacked my hand away before I could even finish the first letter.  
“My cousin’s coming to town,” Sam said while she turned into the long driveway of my school. Her long, straight, black hair blew all around the car in the wind, whereas my hair just blew into my face and obscured my vision.  
“Oh,” I said simply. I barely even looked up from my phone as she spoke.  
I didn’t care. I had met her cousin before and I never really minded when she stayed with us. She lives in Oregon, so Sam doesn't get to see her a lot. Usually, Sam would go over to her because then they would go visit Sam’s family and she loved that. I know she still struggles to maintain a connection with her Paiute ancestry ever since her mom passed, and, when her cousin visits, she helps teach Sam about the culture.  
“When’s she coming?”  
“Callie isn't coming. My cousin from my mom’s side of the family is; he’s more of a step-cousin, I think, but we’re still pretty close. He lives in Manchester. I’ve only met him once or twice in my life. I told him he could stay with us for their stay. I also told him he could bring his friend.” Sam paused for a moment and looked over her rectangle-shaped glasses at me. “They’re coming in this afternoon.”  
I let out a sad sigh and stepped out of the car into the sweltering heat. It's not that I didn't want Sam's cousin to come. I'm not even sure why I'm upset. It's probably just a mixture of Sam not giving me a warning before allowing these strangers (to me) to stay with us, the week before exams, no less. They're probably pretty cool people, I just wish I would have gotten a warning more than seven hours' notice.  
–-  
“What's your problem?” Marcelo asked as I slammed my locker shut. He opened his own locker, which is right next to mine, and studied himself in the minuscule mirror he had taped to the locker door. He made sure his black hair was spiked in the front just right before he shut his own locker and turned to me.  
Marcelo's been one of my best friends for as long as I can remember. To be honest, I can't even remember when we first met. We must have been around six and seven (since I'm a year older than him), but the exact details of when we met have escaped me. He was one of the few kids in my second grade class that was nice to me when I first moved here.  
“Sam’s cousin’s coming to stay with us and he’s bringing a friend. I'm just mad that she told me at the last minute and now I'm taking it out on the locker.”  
I didn’t wait for a response. I just brushed past him and made my way to my first class so I wouldn't be late.  
While I sat in final period, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander. What’s Sam’s cousin going to be like? What about his friend? Are they going to be annoying?  
“Kayane!” Mrs. Baker barked at me, her thick American accent smoothing out the beautiful accents of my name. She said it wrong. She said it so wrong. She says my name like it's a poison like— it's a burden.  
Kai-ya-neh. I angrily corrected in my head. It’s not Kay-anne or Kane or whatever. Kai rhymes with eye. Kai-ya-neh.  
I’ve even offered all of my teachers the simple solution of calling me Kaya (pronounced like “kye-uh”) but they can’t even manage that.  
“Am I distracting you?” Mrs. Baker asked.  
“Nope,” I said. She continued staring at me. “I mean, no, ma’am.”  
Mrs. Baker was the strictest teacher in the whole school and everyone knew it. She was always yelling at somebody for something. Usually, it was something petty that even the austere dean would overlook, such as a girl’s shorts being a millimeter shorter than her fingertips or two students laughing too loudly in the hallway.  
“I’m interested in hearing your opinion on today’s class discussion,” she said.  
“Uh,” I breathed. Shit. I looked around the room in hopes of finding something, anything, on the class discussion. There’s nothing on the board. What am I going to do?  
Before Mrs. Baker could get out another word, the school bell rang. I quickly bolted out of the room, ran to my locker, exchanged my books and started rushing out of the school building.  
“Where ya going, Kayane?” Marcelo asked as I made my way down the steps.  
“My mom’s house… like I go every afternoon until Sam picks me up.”  
When I got to my mom's street, my younger sister, Salma (the only one of us with an Arabic name and the last of my siblings to be born outside of America), was standing on the corner of our street in a tank top and short shorts that my dad would beat her for if he ever saw. She wasn’t even wearing shoes.  
She looked like me. Out of all my siblings, Salma resembled me the most, though, others say Razmik looks like me the most. We're even only ten months apart (meaning our parents gave birth to me, and then created Salma, and gave birth to her a few weeks early). We had the same thick curly black hair that fell to our waist. We even had similar haircuts. We shared the same big brown eyes most of my siblings inherited from our mother. While we were distinct looks-wise, we definitely had many of the same features.  
“Whatcha doing?” I asked. I stood next to her and peered down the street just as she.  
“I’m waiting for Yeraz’s bus to get here,” she said indifferently.  
Salma hated me for leaving two years before. I think she’s mad that I left and stuck her with watching over our younger siblings, which was my job before. I know it’s stressful having to look over younger siblings because of our mother’s general apathy and whatnot, but I left because that stress was disrupting my mental health. She should know that better than anyone. I understand her bitterness, but she doesn’t need to treat me like I’m a nuisance.  
Salma and I stood in silence while we waited for our sister’s bus to arrive. She just kept staring at the street without even a glance towards my direction. Eventually, my sister’s bus did come and that forced Salma to look at me since the bus came from my side of the street.  
“Parev,” Salma said to the bus driver while she helped Yeraz down the big steps of the bus. In Armenian, that means “hello”.  
“Unen lav yereko,” the bus driver said in return. “Astvats orhni.” Translation: Have a good evening. God bless.  
“Astvats orhni,” Salma, Yeraz, and I all said back in unison before the doors closed.  
Salma turned to me, avoiding eye contact, and asked me to take Yeraz inside while she waited for our brothers, Ararat and Arakel. There were dark circles underneath her eyes as if she hasn't slept in days. I looked at her beautiful features that had been dulled by her tiredness, and saw the cheery girl I knew before I left.  
After getting Yeraz inside, I softly tiptoed up the creaky stairs until I reached my mom’s door. I stood in front of her door for a few moments while I debated whether I should go in.  
“Don’t go in there,” Kevork said. He started to pull me away from the door and towards the stairs. “It’ll just make you upset.”  
Koko (a common nickname for Kevork) was sixteen now. He was fourteen when I left, and, my, have the years gone by so quickly. I was taller than he was when I first left, but now he towers over me; it's amazing how fast people grow in our family. I got our mom’s short gene whereas Koko got our dad’s tall gene. He looks so much like him.  
Koko started leading me down the stairs and into the living room where my sisters were doing their homework. I sat down next to them and started doing my own schoolwork.  
We were all silent while we did our homework, even when Salma came back with Ararat and Arakel. The only time someone talked was to ask for help.  
“What if I stayed for a few nights?” I asked once everyone was finished with their work. “Sam is having her cousin and her cousin’s friend over anyway, and I have finals in a week so I probably won’t be able to concentrate.”  
“And you think you’d be able to concentrate here?” Koko said with a laugh.  
“I dunno, but yeah, would that be something you guys would be cool with?”  
Salma just rolled her eyes at me and continued to read her book. Yeraz was excited to have me, her eldest sister, come back home, even if it’s just for a bit. Ararat and Arakel didn’t show much emotion towards me staying, but I could tell, deep down, they’re happy I’m coming back.  
“Okay, so I’ll ask Sam if I can stay while her cousin is here and I’ll tell you what she says tomorrow when I come over.”  
I wasn’t there much longer before I could start to hear the rattling of Sam’s beat up car make its way down the street. After saying goodbye to my siblings, I left the house and got into the passenger’s side of Sam’s car.  
“This is my cousin, Phil,” Sam said while she pointed to the backseat where two enormously tall boys sat, their lanky limbs fitting awkwardly in the confined space.  
“You must be Kayane,” the other said. He said my name wrong, but I didn't correct him. The one named Phil extended a slender hand to me while the other just smiled. “I’m Dan.”  
When they spoke, their accents sounded like somebody from the UK. I thought Sam meant they’re from Manchester, New Hampshire, not England.  
When we arrived back at mine and Sam’s apartment, I changed into my pajamas and flopped down on the couch to watch some TV. There, I got a good look at Dan and Phil.  
The first thing I noticed about Phil was his bright blue eyes. I've always been jealous of people with light eyes (and light features in general). Oh, how I envied those eyes. His posture seemed so relaxed and I envied that as well. Despite how admirable the color is, he never blinked which is rather unsettling.  
Phil also looking nothing like Sam. Yeah, cousins typically don't have a lot of resemblance, but sometimes there is at least a little bit. Phil's ivory skin paled in comparison to Sam's natural bronze complexion. It's probably the presence of Mojave and Paiute blood in Sam's lineage, that is absent in Phil, that makes them so physically different. They honestly couldn't look more alike. Two things that did tie them together, though, is that they both had the same rectangle-shaped glasses and jet black hair (though, Phil's hair looked dyed judging by his eyebrows).  
How they explained their relationship was that, after Sam’s mom passed, her dad remarried Phil’s dad’s sister, who was studying at UCLA at the time, and stayed in California. I couldn’t understand how they could be related if Sam isn’t English and Phil isn’t Mojave, but that makes sense.  
But with Dan, the first thing I noticed was those dimples. I've always been a sucker for dimples. He also had the habit of talking with his hands. Typically, people talking with their hands is my biggest pet peeve and I cannot stand it. However, it didn't seem to bother me one bit. It's actually interesting to watch his hand movements during certain phrases of his sentences.  
Dan, Phil, Sam, and I spent a lot of the night talking. I found out that they’re both YouTubers and have been friends for quite some time. After I figured I had learned enough about them, I retreated into my room and went to bed.  
At around three in the morning, I woke up feeling more tired than when I went to bed. This is quite typical for me. Being unable to fall back asleep, I just laid there and stared at the ceiling until I had to start getting ready.


End file.
